


let you down.

by mrkeatings



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Sebastian Stan - Fandom, Sebastian Stan RPF
Genre: Broken Promises, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Infidelity, References to Depression, Sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-07-17 15:17:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16098311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrkeatings/pseuds/mrkeatings
Summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw.in which an actor and a girl fall in and out of love over the course of three months.[this is inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his new movie and will be based on that]





	1. [1]

The day it happened, it wasn't a significant meeting at all, you barely even talked.

In fact, when he opened the door of your neighbor’s flat that day with a beer in his right hand and his hair messy, he didn't have any effect on you. You always knew that living next to a director meant that sooner or later you’d bump into the pretty faces of well-known people. Sure, you didn’t expect them to be Hollywood actors like him, but to say you were starstruck by the man, would be the overstatement of the year.

The building you’ve lived in for the last three years has five floors; you live in the 4th, he lives in the 5th. He’s a quiet person, usually spending his evenings out of his apartment. You’ve talked sometimes, about the weather and the weird lady that lives in the 1st floor. You’ve never told him you find his directing style a little pretentious.

You’ve never been to his place until that annoyingly warm August evening, when you find a white button up shirt on your balcony. You can clearly see more clothing when you look up and you’re certain the item you’re holding belongs to him.

He’s not there though. Instead you find a different face behind the door. Lighter eyes and darker hair. The man in front of you is definitely younger than the director. You don’t bother to notice what he’s wearing.

“Can I help you?” His voice is deeper than you expected. Stronger, with a touch of European accent. The sound of English surprises you at first but soon you realize he must be another foreign coworker that came to visit your neighbor.

“No, I just think Argyris dropped this and it ended up on my floor.”

He looks at you and then at the shirt in your hands.

Then he says “Sure, I’ll take it.”

“Okay.”

Then it ends.

He doesn’t even ask your name. You don’t have to ask his. You figure out, as soon as you walk down the stairs, that it’s Sebastian Stan that you just talked to.

And while being a big fan of marvel movies, you think nothing special of him at first. You just wonder how a mostly unknown director from Greece got an actor like Sebastian to come here so they can work together. It makes no sense to you, but you forget it when your phone starts ringing.

/

It would’ve been easier if you never saw him again, yet you do. You see him trying to understand what the old lady from the first floor is trying to tell him. You already know. The elevator is not working.

The next day you see him walking up the stairs. You exchange a quick _hello, how are you_ and then off you both go.

The same night Argyris invites you to have a drink with them in the terrace.

Part of you wants to just stay in bed and binge watch some Parks and Recreation episodes. Part of you already thinks of what to wear.

There are around ten people there when you show up. They’re all sitting down in huge pillows drinking and talking loudly. You don’t know most of them. You sit next to a blonde girl, across from Sebastian. This time you notice he’s wearing a plain black shirt and holds a glass of whiskey.

You don’t share any direct conversations but you learn that he’s afraid of growing old and that he thinks _Taxi Driver is one fucking masterpiece_ , as he says.

When you mention that you’re probably the least artistic person in the room right now, you hear him laugh.

A curly haired woman starts dancing with him at some point. You decide he’s not a good dancer.

He leaves the same time you do, following you down the stairs.

“I thought you're staying here.” You say when he doesn’t stop at the floor you expect him to.

“Ah no, I stay at a hotel near the centre.” He keeps talking about his suite until you reach your door.

You part in a blur, with a short goodbye.

He still doesn’t ask for your name.

It makes you feel genuinely offended.

/

Two days after, he is the farthest thing from your mind, until you find him sitting in front of your door, his eyes roaming the place with despair. And then he sees you.

“Ah finally she comes.” He starts casually. “Thank god.”

You just nod.

“Argyris told me to wait for him with you. We had a meeting but he got stuck in traffic.”

You give him a look.

“He said you’re always at home so you won’t mind.”

Ouch. Yeah sure, your social life wasn’t something to brag about but for some reason the way Sebastian said it, it sounded like an insult.

“Okay, come in.” You shrug, clearly not feeling comfortable and turn around to unlock the door.

You hear him call your name. You thought he didn’t know.

“Yes?”

He offers you an easy smile.

“Thank you.”

/

Sitting in your couch he’s eyeing the entire room, while you put some groceries in the fridge.

“Argyris says you’re a great girl.” He clears his throat. “But he thinks you’re too quiet for your own good.”

You look at him, your eyes flicking up and down his face.

“And from what I can tell, he’s right.” You hear him laugh.

It felt weird to see him laugh while he was leaning back at _your_ cozy pillow. He had entered your life so suddenly you didn’t even have time to react to it.

“I’m sorry but I barely know you.” Your words are sharp. He sits up.

“Okay then let’s get to know each other, what’s your favorite Disney princess?” Defeated, you laugh.

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, this is a very important question.”

You wait for him to crack up but then you remember he’s an actor.

“I don’t know.” You think for a second. “Mulan?”

“Oh my god. Mulan is amazing.” You smile at him. “My favorite is Jasmine, she’s just so badass.”

You share your favorites that day, having almost nothing in common rather than your everlast love for animated movies and buttered popcorn.

When it’s time for him to leave, he stops and looks at you in the eye.

“You should talk more often.”

You stare at him with confusion. “I talk,” you raise your eyebrows. “When I have something to say.”

“Good.” he says, still looking.

/

Later in the evening, you’re eating some yoghurt when he comes knocking on your door.

He’s different. The white tank top he was wearing this morning is replaced with a dark shirt and his face looks tired. You assume they’ve been working since he went upstairs.

“Helloo, am I interrupting anything?”

You desperately want to nod. You want to tell him that you were doing the most exciting thing in the world, before he came, but you were never a good liar.

So you just tilt your head and take a step back.

That’s when he enters and is met with some loud rock music blaring from your laptop.

“You like AC/DC?” he asks, almost wide-eyed.

“Well, I can tell it’s them when I hear their stuff.” For the first time that day, he seems to be in loss of words.

“Why are you so surprised?”

He sits in the same spot in the couch as earlier and laughs.

“I just didn’t take you for the kind of girl who likes this music.”

It’s your turn to laugh. “Why?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Quiet girl who loves animated films and eats kids youghrt,” he looks at the carton in your kitchen table, “a metal fan? Doesn’t add up.”

“We’ve basically just met; you shouldn’t make assumptions about me.”

“Fair enough.” He sits back, fidgeting with his fingers.

You take some time just looking at him.

There was a certain vibe about that man that made you wonder how it’d feel to cruise down a dessert highway in a convertible mustang with him. In the summer. With him wearing that white tank top.

The color of strawberries emerges at your cheeks just at the thought of it.

You wish he doesn’t notice.

And you’re glad to find him looking the other way, before he speaks up. “We’re going out tonight.” His voice is warm now. “Argyris says you should come along, even though I’m quite sure there’s no hardcore music where we’re going.”

He laughs again.

 _I can’t._ You almost say.

But then anxiety slips away from you and out of sudden you want him to stop being so freaking arrogant, going around and acting like he knows exactly what kind of person you are.

He's certain you’ll say no. You can see it in his eyes.

“Sure, when should I be ready?” you say, surprising both of you.

He looks at you for some time and then trying to hide whatever he was thinking he says the first thing on his mind.

“How old are you?” He sounds pitiful. He knows. He wishes he could hit a wall; with his head.

“Twenty-one.” His eyes scan yours, unsure of what they’re looking for. “Why?”

“No reason.”

He inhales deep.


	2. [2]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay but it seems so surreal i'm actually writing this? i hope you like this story as much as i grow to like it.

You try to blink. You’re at a party in a little bar you’ve never been before and a lot of people are wearing black. Alcohol. You can still taste it on the back of your tongue. You don’t remember how you end up pressed against a dark skinned man, but you can tell he smells of cigarettes and despair.

You sway your body to the beat, close your eyes. Breath in. And out. You think the music deafens you for a second but you open your lids and see Sebastian and he’s watching you, unashamed.

He’s not that far, though it feels like it with countless bodies in the way. The music melts. His gaze is almost angelic. Or devious. You can’t really tell.

He’s dancing with that curly haired woman again. You wonder how intimate their relationship is.

The red neon lights make his skin glisten. His muscles move divinely. It makes you think there’s an entire world inside him, his flesh barely keeping it hidden. Out of sudden you get the urge to walk towards him. You want to see him up close under this dim lighting. But you don’t move.

The man that’s groping your waist asks for your name. You tell him you need to flee. He doesn’t understand.

You sit outside with the sweet summer breeze touching your bare arms. The bass of the music in the background syncs with the beating of your heart. You can feel your ribs grow with every breath you take. Until you stop breathing because the door opens and his eyes suffocate you.

You can’t fathom the effect he has on you. He was a pretty face on screen some days ago. But right now he steals distance and stays near you.

You don’t look his way. He doesn’t say a word. Nicotine and smoke surround you as he exhales. His fingers hold the cigarette butt with care.

“Do you want some?”

You turn to look at him.

“I don’t smoke.” He laughs.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want some.”

You want to know if his breath has the taste of sulfur. You want to pretend it’s the alcohol or the loud music that makes your head hurt.

“What’s the best part of being an actor?” The blue in his eyes glows.

There’s silence but he seems to be thinking about it.

“Do you ever feel things too much?” He says, his voice hoarse. “I mean, when you feel something so intensely it becomes a part of who you are.”

You nod. You understand.

“Acting allows you to let go of these feelings,” he starts. “You share the burden with the audience until it becomes light and you can hold it again.”

You look at him, shaking your head.

“I don’t think I could that,” you close your eyes. “I don’t think I could share what I feel so easily.”

He stands up. The soft wind hits you again.

“A lot people can’t. That’s why everyone is heartbroken,” he takes a breath, “Feelings eat us raw.”

You both go to bed alone that night. Tomorrow there is a hole next to you.

/

_the morning after, search history_

(02:45 PM) hangover recovery

(03:00 PM) best food after a hangover

(03:10 PM) sebastian stan

(03:30 PM) sebastian stan girlfriend

(06:00 PM) xanax side effects

/

You follow him on Instagram. He doesn’t follow you back. You remember he probably gets tons of followers every day and decide not to let it bother you. Instead you study for the exams of the following month.

The subject of your studies doesn’t interest you. Another poor decision you made under pressure. Sometimes you feel as if your life is borrowed from someone else. Sometimes you feel as if you haven’t found your home yet.

_Feelings eat us raw._

His girlfriend looks beautiful in the pictures you find online. The media isn’t certain if they’re still together but you like to think so. It makes it easier to avoid him.

But the universe seems to be oblivious to your thoughts and you see him that same day. You’re taking the garbage out and he’s coming down from the top floor. You meet in the elevator.

“I’m glad to see you’re still alive,” his eyes are smiling as he talks “you looked kinda drunk last night.”

You fidget with the hem of the bag you’re holding.

“I wasn’t drunk.” You notice he’s growing some stubble. You’re not sure you like it.

“Whatever you say, doll.” You bite your cheek trying to devour any sign that might give away how his words make you flinch.

He turns his body a little so now you’re facing each other. He’s so pretty. He’s so pretty in a way it doesn’t hurt. You try not to stare at him, but you fail sometimes. You’ve never noticed how slow the elevator moves until you want to get out. You can’t stand being so close to him for much longer.

 _He’s an arrogant rich actor who loves Disney and smokes a lot,_ you think. _I have no reason to be affected by him._

“Ah! Argyris said we’re leaving for the weekend.” You eye him curiously. “He wants to show us some small villages in the south. He thinks we should get to know the country a little more before we start.”

You’re stunned by your neighbor’s dedication to his work. Sometimes you wish you had something you could be passionate about too. Sometimes you think you’re never going to find it.

“That’s great. I’m sure you’ll like it.” You give him a smile.

He leans his back at the wall. The elevator stops. Finally.

“I like your eyes.” You grab tight onto the bag. “But they don’t smile when you do.”

He opens the door and he’s gone.

They tell you that it’s fun to meet a famous person. They tell you, you can ask for a photo and a hug. They tell you celebrities don’t talk a lot but that doesn’t mean they’re rude.

But he’s not like that.

He’s fire. He’s burning heat and scorching flames. His words are his thoughts; raw.

You don’t like it.

/

_late night search history_

(00:38 AM) blue valentine movie soundtrack

(01:15 AM) is sebastian stan a bad person

(01:30 AM) acting classes for amateurs

(01:50 AM) cheap leather boots

(02:10 AM) sebastian stan eyes

You find it annoying; how he’s present even when you’re alone. _Thankfully he’s leaving for the weekend,_ you think.

/

The weekend, however, is two days away.

You think you can get away without seeing him. And you do. Until it’s late at night again. And they’re all upstairs with music so loud you’re certain the lady on the first floor is going to be rude about it in the morning.

The music tempo has you unaffected. All you think about is if he’s dancing with that woman again.

_He’s such a bad dancer, he should not be dancing._

There’s a subtle knock on your door. You know it’s him. You hope you’re wrong.

“Do you feel like dancing?” His face is all flustered. It’s a good look on him.

“You can’t come knocking on my door at 2 AM and ask me to dance.” His gaze is filled with confusion.

“So you don’t feel like dancing?” You roll your eyes. He notices.

“That’s not the point Sebastian.” It’s the first time you call him by his name. You let it slip away slowly, testing the way it sounds coming out of your mouth.

He takes a step closer. You are suddenly aware of your pyjama shorts and your exposed skin.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to irritate you.” His eyes are the cliché blue of the sky. “I just thought you might want to dance, that’s all.”

Suddenly you feel bad and embarrassed. He’s unaware of it.

For a moment you feel his eyes linger on you. It feels surreal.

You nod at him.

He’s ready to say something when Argyris comes down the stairs, his shirt slightly unbuttoned.

“Ah man, I thought you got lost or something.” You lower your eyes. “Stop messing with the poor girl. People are looking for you.”

He throws a smile at you and Sebastian takes a quick breath.

“People are always looking for me.”

He gives away that he’s carrying a burden. Your expression softens. But then you look at Argyris and you see he doesn’t really pay attention to these words.

You share a quick look before you’re there standing alone at your doorstep, trying to grasp the idea of him.

/

When you wake up you feel like running.

You can’t fathom where the feeling comes from but it starts like a liquid running down your veins and soon you can’t stay in bed even for a second.

 _Feelings eat us raw._ Only if you let them.


	3. [3]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i am so glad you like this already :) i hope it's not too dramatic but rain turns me into an emotional mess.

It’s Monday when they come back from their small trip to the south. You’re watering the jasmine in your balcony when you hear the engine of Argyris’ car slowly shut down and see two figures getting out of the back seats.

It’s him and a blonde woman. You remember meeting her that night in the terrace. You’ve learnt that she’s a great actress and will play the other protagonist in the film.

When she notices you looking at them, she waves.

“Hey, Sebastian it’s your friend there.” She gives his shoulder a soft nudge.

 _We’re not friends._ That’s what you almost yell back at her.

His head shots up, smiling.

_He’s always smiling. It’s getting annoying._

You can see him going through his bag as he calls your name.

“Look, I brought you some traditional sweets.” He’s holding a small wrapped up package. He starts wiggling it in the air.

He looks so jolly and proud of himself. It makes your throat dry.

And before you can control it, you laugh. You can’t see it from where you’re standing but he bites his bottom lip at the sound.

/

Two hours later he’s sitting in your kitchen devouring half of the pastries he got you.

“These are actually so good, how can you not like them?” He says and it comes out all garbled. His mouth is full of sugary dough.

You do like them. But he does too. And you can find them anytime you want here. You doubt it’s the same in New York.

“They’re just not my favorite,” he nods “but thank you anyway.”

“Well let’s say you owe me,” you furrow your brows in confusion “and will repay me by sending me some of those once I’m gone.”

He laughs before taking another bite.

And as you stare at him, you notice that he’s different. His gaze is tranquil, his voice is soft and he has some cream at the corner of his lips.

Like that, he looks more like a guy you met at college than a well known actor.

 _Like that, we could be friends,_ you think.

You talk a lot. He tells you about his time in Romania and his first audition. It makes you realize you are far more interested in acting than what you thought. You tell him how you think team Iron Man is the superior team. He gasps, as if he is hurt.

He doesn’t mention his girlfriend. You don’t ask about her. It’s easier for both of you this way.

/

A stifling heat rises to your body as you walk under the burning sun. You don’t realize how Argyris gets you to give Sebastian a tour around the city, but you can remember a pair of light eyes pleading you.

You can easily hear him humming to himself. You turn to look at him. He’s wearing a hat and his forehead is sweating. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“You’re in a very good mood today.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Well I’m stuck with you for the day so what choice do I have?” You shrug.

He makes a face at you. You crack and a huge smile forms in your face.

He leans closer, mouth to ear and then he speaks.

“Sometimes I can’t tell if you hate me or just like me too much.”

His breath hits your cheek.

You try not to blink at the sudden foreign touch.

His words find your skin and they’re so clear and powerful. Suddenly you’re an open page to him.

He crosses his arms in front of his chest and waits for an answer, a nod, a glance.

You are still standing close, the city sounds doing nothing to ease the heated silence between you two.

He realizes you’re not going to give him any response so he lowers his eyes. And then, when he looks up again, it almost feels like he gives you mercy and agrees to let you get away with it this time.

He smiles.

“So where is Acropolis?”

/

When he’s lying on your couch after six hours of being a tourist under the summer sun he looks exhausted. Still he’s his typical talkative self.

“You are always soooo pumped.”

“And you rarely are.”

“Doesn’t it get tiring?” you ask each other at the same time. It seems like you are two different sides of the exact same coin. One body. One heart.

“Today was nice.” He stretches his arms. “Thank you.”

You open the window. There is barely any wind out there. The air smells of hot cement and flowers.

The man on your couch has closed his eyes, breathing softly.

You try to ignore him over and over these days. Until you cannot ignore him anymore; your world has come to an end.

So many people know who Sebastian Stan is.

Only few will ever know him like this; falling asleep on a cheap brown couch with his hair messy, his chest rising and falling and his mind empty of thoughts.

These are photographs of _your_ memories now.

An involuntary smile spreads across your face at the thought.

You see him swift and his hand clenches tightly around a throw pillow.

“Stop looking at me like that you creep,” he says.

_“Come closer,” he means._

/

The sun is long gone and he’s still asleep when there’s a knock on your door. It’s Argyris.

“Please tell me he’s here.”

You nod and motion towards Sebastian’s drifted away body.

“When I left you this morning I didn’t actually think you’d last this long together.” He tells you the moment he sees him.

The words fall out of his mouth too easily for your liking. “But I should have known better.”

You don’t understand much. You take a step out of your door. You don’t to wake him up.

“Do you know how many times he mentioned you while we were away?"

Everything stops and falls quiet in the hall.

The words choke you. You shake your head.

“I need you to be smarter than him.” He says and touches your shoulder. “His world moves too fast for people like us.”

It’s effortless not to look at the man in front of you. It’s hard not to shallow his saying.

/

He wakes up an hour later. He looks at you and it feels sacred. His eyes are still red and the pillow has left a mark on his left cheek.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep here.”

“It’s okay.”

“No it was rude, you should have yelled at me to wake up or something.”

“But you looked tired.”

You carry on with doing the dishes and you hear the couch squeak as he stands up and steps towards you.

The water is refreshingly cold on your skin and the soap smells like lemon.

His hands find your waist and his touch is burning. You wish he disappears. You wish he stays for the night. You don’t even know what you’re wishing for anymore. He comes closer and rests his head on top of yours.

And then he wraps his arms around you and you get flashes of days and nights where there was not enough air for you to breath and your ribs ached.

His action is not so noble. It feels like his body steals all the rationality you have. But it gives you this feeling that there will be no more starless skies at night. And that’s enough for now, so you don’t complain.

His skin feels soft and he smells of sweat and vanilla. Somehow you find that alluring.

He looks at you for a second, like he’s trying to memorize your face. And then he pulls away completely silent.

You try to understand what he’s thinking but he gives nothing away. You were never good at reading people.

You blink and he’s almost out of your apartment.

“Goodnight” he shouts.

“Goodnight” you whisper.

/

You close the window.

You wonder how he will spend the night. He probably won’t sleep soon. He just woke up.

But you can’t sleep either. You just move around in your bed. You sink into the sheets and try to close your eyes.

Your phone buzzes.

He follows you on Instagram.

_I need you to be smarter than him._

You go through his profile. You want to think he’s doing the same. You want him to do the same.

_His world moves too fast for people like us._

You sigh. Perhaps there could have been a time when you would have stayed away from him, but you can’t pretend to ignore it for much longer. And you’re scared of it. And you’re scared of him.

But you’re more scared of how hard it’s for loneliness to fade. And you wish this doesn’t end like a greek tragedy.


	4. [4]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this took longer than it should but uni started and i've been dealing with some issues lately and i didn't want to let my feelings interfere with this chapter but of course they did ,, anyway i hope you like this :) also a big thank you and i love you to every one who left a comment or a kudo because these keep me motivated.

One day of the following week you go out for coffee. The curly haired woman comes with you. You don’t understand why. And while you’re adding more sugar to your espresso, she tells him she loves his acting. She uses all kinds of adjectives to describe it; _hopeful and poignant, celestial._

You like the way she talks. She sounds beautiful. You almost envy her abundance of words.

But Sebastian stops listening.

He watches the way your fingers wrap around the sugar box. He can see your nerves and your synapses move underneath your skin and he thinks he’s watching a dance show.

He will never tell you, but it’s then; under the morning sun and with sugar in your hands, that he feels his heart beat with the power of cymbals for the first time.

He thinks you don’t have to know.

He’s wrong.

You learn the girl is an actress herself. They’ll be in the movie together. _They look stellar together._

Looking at them, gives you a violent feeling that wrenches your stomach around.

You can’t hate her for that. You feel like it’s more your fault than hers. That feeling however, grabs you by the shoulders and doesn’t let go. You try not to let it show.

But for some reason when Sebastian almost touches your palm, you look at her and you’re certain this is entirely mutual.

You make a silent agreement to not include him in any of this.

/

“You were extremely quiet earlier.” He says as you reach your building.

He wants to spend time together until his scheduled shooting. You don’t complain.

“You always say that.” You try to joke. He looks right at you.

And then you notice that his eyes aren’t the color of the sea. They’re more grayish blue. They’re like a frozen lake in December.

“I know,” he starts messing with his hair “But you can’t deny you barely talked back there.”

When you enter your apartment he immediately throws himself on your couch. These last few days it feels like he owns that right spot there in front of your big window.

“I’ve told you, I talk when I have something to say.”

He smiles at your words.

“Then I must be lucky you talk to me.” He whispers softly.

You sit next to him. If you move a little closer you could touch him, feel his warmth. You don’t.

You never thought of how easy it has become to talk to him. You don’t keep your thoughts locked and your teeth clenched around him. And that’s a novice feeling for you.

You let your eyelids fall close and lay back.

There’s a language between you two. It starts with secret glances and whispers and now it contains words that build and ruin bodies and souls.

Sometimes you want to say them all together. Sometimes you just want to open your mouth and let everything flow out but then you’re scared you’ll make him mad.

Or you’ll make him love you.

You can’t decide which is worse and that’s enough to stop you.

“What is this thing between us?” He sounds all tender-like, but his blood feels heavy at the moment. He’s not sure if he can keep breathing. He regrets the words that leave his lips, when it’s already too late.

You have the answer figured out long time before he asks.

“It’s far from nothing” you open your eyes “And it’s not enough.”

/

He doesn’t tell anyone but sometimes he feels nauseous before a shooting. You can clearly see that now. His pacing up and down the room and his roaming eyes give him away.

You are surprised. You never thought he could be nervous. He looks so confident and radiant all the time; you sometimes forget he is still a regular human being.

“You have no reason to worry.” His lips twitch.

“I know.”

“But you still worry.” You grin and catch his arm to stop him from moving.

The look he gives you is acute.

“You have no reason to be sad,” he starts, without breaking eye contact “but you still are.”

You feel naked and hug yourself close.

It’s very strange to have someone scratch everything from you and see your raw truth. You’re not certain it’s something you enjoy. You wish it didn’t make you quiver.

Sebastian wishes he could scratch deeper under your dermis and your fingernails and slither there between your muscles and your heart where blood runs thick and melancholy hasn’t conquered yet.

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head.

“You didn’t say anything hurtful.”

You worry your words may come out bitter. You don’t want that.

“It won’t last forever.” he says and then your name appears in his tongue. You like the way he says it. It almost sounds like poetry. “You won’t be sad forever.”

You smile and in that moment you aren’t a worldwide known celebrity and a girl in her early twenties. You are just two people seeking comfort.

/

The same night there’s a party for the first day of shooting. You don’t feel like going, but he doesn’t let you stay home.

_What did you do last night?_

_Went to a party with Sebastian Stan, typical Thursday night._

You can picture the look on everyone’s face. It makes your lips turn upward just a little.

“I told you to be careful.” The voice sounds almost far away but your neighbor is standing right next to you as he mutters.

“I am.” You say with a laugh. He crosses his arms.

“No you are here, watching him starry-eyed.”

Your fingers start playing with the rough fabric of your dress.

“I don’t know how to stop it.” You whisper.

He tells you to not entail yourself in something you don’t know the way out of. But what does he know about solitude and rushed breaths?

What does he know about a pair of eyes that look like a frozen lake?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

/

He’s watching you from afar while you talk with Argyris. He notices how your chest moves along with your breathing in a way it looks like it’s made of pure glass. For a while he thinks of staying there and keep observing you but then Argyris leaves and you’re all alone.

And he starts walking closer to you.

All eyes are on him as he goes through the main dance floor. The curly haired actress stops moving to the beat and follows him with her gaze.

They both reach you.

And you know he’s moving towards you before you can see him. It’s like your body is aware of his presence madly fast.

His eyes seem darker under the hazy light.

He grabs your hand.

You almost heave.

“Let’s get out of here.” He breaths.

/

You walk for some time. It’s late and Athens is quiet around that time. There is only a soft broken sound of cars and you think about that time you saw a man’s car break down and there was blood and there was a little girl weeping.

You sit close in an old dirty staircase in a forgotten back alley. The city has a lot of those, but people don’t notice. They just walk past them, always in a hurry.

Sebastian sighs heavily. He looks at you in a way it makes you think he’s trying to memorize everything. The way midnight air caresses your body, the way red lighting falls in your hair from that street lamp. He looks at you for an indefinite and long period of time and it feels exquisite.

You place your fingers on his palm and the world flickers. He’s still wearing the rings they gave him for the movie and they feel cold against your skin.

“Do you ever miss Romania?”

The question startles him.

“Every day.” You nod. Maybe he knows more about sorrow than you give him credit for.

“I remember the dog fence and our neighbors’ daughter and the orange sky through my window, minutes before sun set.”

Your hand locks around his and you stay silent for a while.

“This is the _Lyra_ constellation.” His eyes light up as he looks up.

You remember reading about how much he’s into space. It’s intriguing.

“Where?”

He doesn’t let go of your hand. Instead he picks it up and guides it with his own. His body moves closer. There’s no cold in the air.

As your eyes search for the stars that your hands point at, he watches you and he’s certain that one day he’d love to lay on his back, with you on his side and show you all the little dead planets in the sky. Show you the secrets of the universe.

And he feels like this is the type of beauty that musicians try to write songs about.

“Ah!” Your grip becomes tighter and you smile. “I can see it!”

He laughs at your childish enthusiasm. You laugh too.

And then you let your head fall on his shoulder, your hair touching his bare skin. You don’t blame them for making him wear sleeveless shirts for the film.

You can feel him shudder at your sudden motion, but then he exhales and his muscles relax.

He observes the features of your face from this angle. He almost traces them with his fingers.

“They’re probably going to kill me for stealing you away from the party.” You whisper.

“I think I was the one who grabbed your hand and left.” He laughs again and you can feel his chest pounding.

His phone buzzes. He doesn’t look at it. He closes his eyes.

“Δείξε μου όλα τα αστέρια.”

He doesn’t understand a word but your voice sounds too close. You feel too close. And that’s almost tearing him apart.

“What does that mean?” You turn to look at him. The neon sign on the old building behind him keeps trembling.

“It means, _show me the stars_.”

And he does. And he feels like he could burn alive.

And you will never tell him; but you still think of him when you catch a glimpse of burning stars.


	5. [5]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hellooooo i'm sorry this is also late, i won't even try to defend myself, i just hope you like it as much as i do :) also a huge thank you to everyone who leaves kudos and comments or just reads this story.
> 
> THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO MYRTO BECAUSE I LOVE HER AND SHE'S SO GREAT.

Being Sebastian Stan is not a simple thing. Some days it makes him feel like he is only a porcelain face on screen. Nothing more than photographs and rumors. He had once told an interviewer he was scared people would never know the real Sebastian. What he meant was that he was worried he’d wake up one day and the real him would be vanished.

The world would have eaten him alive.

Walking you home, in empty streets in a small country makes it all easier. His mind is clear of dazzling thoughts and his heart is not racing up. He can smile and no one will be there to take a picture of him.

Somehow that makes him smile more.

And when he does, it feels like Christmas. And you are certain there will come a day where you’ll be so close to oblivion and unable to remember what mint tastes like or what your favorite color is, but you’ll still have the turned up corners of his mouth painted in your head.

He stops walking. You look at him confused. He’s fidgeting with his fingers.

“Back at the party,” he takes a long breath as if trying to slow down his heartbeat, “You were talking with that tall guy.”

He sounds terrified. You don’t understand why. He thinks it’s better that way.

“Yeah I was.” There’s a flicker of surprise in your voice.

“Do you know him well?” You realize you have stopped in front of a pharmacy, the halogen light above you, turning your skin a sick green color.

“I know he’s an actor.” You take a step, finding the courage to walk away from him. “He’s kinda famous here.”

You can hear him move close behind you.

“Do you want me to ask Argyris if he’s single?”

There’s mockery in his voice. It makes you feel intoxicated. It’s your turn to stop walking. Your gaze falls on his face and Sebastian can feel his eyes sting but he keeps them open; wide and pale blue.

_Almost green, under this light._

“No.”

“Oh don’t be sh-“

“No, I mean it. I would never date a famous guy.”

“Why?” A hasted breath escapes his trembling lips. And for a moment you think of kissing him right there; in the middle of the street, but you never do.

_His world moves too fast for people like us._

That’s what you want to yell back at him, but then you remember;

_The evening Sebastian fell asleep in your couch, he was more than a famous guy. He was clutching on your pillow like a kid and he was humming to himself like your father used to._

_And he smiled as he fell asleep._

There is no argument left in you. He’s just a boy.

“I’m scared.” Your words slowly suffocate him. He feels the weight of your heart pulling him down.

He nods.

/

The next two days pass in a blur. You can hear him laugh with people as they walk up the stairs to Argyris’ flat. You’re not used to him not stopping at your door. It makes your cheeks red and your eyes filled with salty tears.

You haven’t realized until now, but you’ve become dependent on his presence.

So when you open your eyes at 4am with your phone buzzing with an Instagram message, you bite your cheeks. _Are you awake?_

You stare at the screen to make sure you read it all correct, until it turns black and then lights up once again.

_Why are you scared? Please don’t be._

_I’m trying._ You want to answer. _But I’ve been scared every day now, for a year._ You want to answer. _Help me._ You want to answer. _Please_.

You put your phone away until the words turn blurry.

/

He’s back at your door the following night. He’s wearing a white tank top and his rings. He must have just finished shooting.

You keep staring at each other, both tongue-tied with the words you’ll never say. He looks worried and desperate. You look tired and _desperate_.

“Do you want to talk?” He asks.

You shake your head like you’re at war with yourself.

“Do you want to just stay here?” Your voice is too silent but it’s almost deafening him.

Sebastian thinks that he wants tons of things. He wants to hold you. And he wants to touch you. Everywhere. And he wants to know why there’s sorrow surrounding you. And he wants to take it all away.

 _And he wants you_.

But he knows that he can’t tell you that. These words are too heavy for you to carry on your shoulders. At least for now.

“I’ll stay.” He says with a breath.

You give him an almost smile and all you can feel is gratitude.

/

You lay in your bed together. You’ve slept with a lot of guys in that bed before. And it’s been nude and sloppy and brutal. But this is different. This is intimacy in its purest form. You’re both fully clothed but you both feel naked. And so close. So close.

All Sebastian can hear is the sound of your breathing and every bone inside him is breaking. He is afraid he’s turning paralyzed.

And then you move your body and bring your forehead next to his. Sebastian inhales deeply. You smell of faded vanilla body cream.

You look at him and you know then you can get used to that. You bury your fingers in the hem of his shirt. You want him to come closer. He knows.

“I’ll stay love,” his voice is steady and sincere “Anytime.”

He calls you love because there’s nothing else to call you. He calls you love because you both need him too. 

“No you won’t.” Sebastian thinks you’re always too sensible. It’s something you keep between the hollows of your body. “But it’s okay.”

His hand is in your hair. It soothes you.

“What happened? What broke you?” he whispers.

You don’t know what to say. You don’t know how everything started. It's hard to remember but there is one image in the back of your eyes that crawls through your skin and makes you shiver. You try to ignore it.

“I don’t know.” He turns his gaze at you but you look at the cold ceiling. It’s so much easier this way.

He doesn’t answer. He just draws circles in the back of your palm and places his lips against the scalp of your head. And while you’ve never been much of a science person, you’re certain this is how a nuclear attack emerges.

/

When the sun rises and you wake up, he’s not there. Earth moves slowly as the cold sheets press against your skin.

It’s early, there is a soft breeze coming in from your open window. A man is bickering with this wife across the street.

You can hear her call him _a liar_.

 _I’ll stay love_.

You can hear him yell his apologies.

 _Anytime_.

Why do people lie? Why do we lie?

You don’t try to search for him. You take a shower and drink some chocolate milk. You pay attention to the silence in the room. You almost forget your heart is still beating.

/

You bump into Argyris’ girlfriend while taking out the garbage. You like her a lot. She’s strong and pretty and smart. You wonder sometimes, how exactly that feels.

You pray she doesn’t mention him. It doesn’t work.

“He must be flying right now.” Suddenly you feel as if there is something rotten inside your chest. It makes you want to graze your skin and throw away everything that's inside.

You look at her slightly confused.

“He’s flying to Toronto; he has to attend a festival there.” She smiles. You’ve noticed she always smiles.

You just nod and step out of the building. Her voice stops you.

“He’s coming back in some days.”

“I don’t care.” Now she laughs.

“There’s no need to lie.” You take a sharp breath. “He cares too.”

You want to believe her words but they seem like choke chains.

You throw your garbage away.

You keep your rotten chest.

/

Sebastian sits back at his seat and orders a hundred and one drinks. The airplane is chasing the sun. He’s chasing his thoughts. Neither will ever catch up.

He used to like travelling. Airports, suitcases and foreign hotel rooms made him feel free. Now they make him feel the opposite.

The material on his seat is rugged. He wants to go back to your soft sheets. He can’t.

And then he imagines a place and a time where he could just kiss you without any possible consequences. He imagines a place where you could rest your bodies together for a long time without worries weighing you down. He imagines a place where he gets what he wants. A place where that thing between you two is more than enough.

The sun blinds him. He closes the small window and then his eyes.

Being Sebastian Stan is not a simple thing.

Some days he can’t take it.


	6. [6]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooo :) i just want to say i'm sorry for all the angsty mess in this chapter but sebastian is a human too, you can't expect him not to make any mistakes. i hope you like this ♥ thank you sooo much for all the comments and the kudos and the hits, ly :)
> 
> this is dedicated to my beautiful bigonies because i love theeeeem.

You’re sitting on the floor and it’s almost 9 in the morning. You’ve calculated the time difference and it’s 2 in the morning where he is. That sounds wrong. Almost scary.

He left three days ago but he’s everywhere. There are photos of him wearing stupid floral shirts and posing in a sophisticated way. And there’s Nicole Kidman next to him.

_God. I’ve become infatuated with a man who plays in movies with Nicole Kidman and Robert Downey Jr._

That’s what you think and you know you’re doomed.

You expect him to send you a message or a picture at first, but he doesn’t. You wonder if your time together was only a blurry puzzle of disconnected memories that somehow fits in his past.

 _He’ll simply forget all of it_.

You try not to think about him but then you meet Argyris in the lobby and you have to bite the inside of your mouth so _his_ name doesn’t jump out from your lips.

You go to bed early that day. You hold onto your pillow and you count the hours that separate you.

_(13 hours with a plane)_

_(25 days with a boat)_

You count and you fall asleep.

And you fall in love.

/

It’s not uncommon to rain in Toronto. But today rain feels heavier on Sebastian’s skin. He remembers the day he met you; it was hot and the sun made the window glass look like it was about to melt. That memory is the cause of his shivering.

Once upon a time he was in love. He was in love with a girl who had ethereal written all over her body. He was in love with a girl who was destined for divinity.

But those were the old days; they are dead and gone now. Your skin glistening under the Athenian sun changed it all.

It’s not easy to feel this way. The sky understands so it opens up and pours down on his dark hair. He presses his eyes closed with his fingers. And he tries to imagine a version of himself that doesn’t think about you that often.

He can’t.

Not even when he has a deity as his girlfriend.

/

The next time you see him, his hair is a little longer and much messier than you remember. And you have to devour all the sense that’s left inside you as not to touch it with your bare hand.

He has a dark jacket thrown around his shoulders and everyone’s asking him about the festival. You just sit on the corner of your neighbor’s flat and listen to laughter and glasses clicking against each other. And you smile.

Smile; because he’s here.

And then he notices you and you’re pretty sure his eyes linger on your face a little longer than it's normal for humans. And his gaze is so brilliantly blank and loony that you don’t know how to respond. And then he starts to cough. And he never looks at you for the rest of the night.

You want to believe it’s better this way.

But it makes you so angry; you want to clench your teeth hard.

/

It goes like this; you don’t exchange any words for the next two days and it feels like your lips will start to bleed.

And you don’t know but his head feels like battlefield.

“When do you know you can’t stop it?” He asks Argyris. He feels ashamed.

“When you don’t want to stop it.”

He grabs the beer can and drinks his confusion away. He hopes alcohol will send his thoughts to sleep but instead it sends him to your door.

He rests his head against the wooden material. He can hear water running down and he can hear you humming a song.

And the foreign words make no sense to him but somehow they sound like lyrical poetry.

He waits for the water to stop and then he knocks.

/

Your hair is wet and sticks to your blue shirt. Your eyes grow wide when you see him standing there.

“I thought you’d never come at my door again.”

He looks at the floor.

“I shouldn’t.”

He sounds defeated; defeated by his own self. And you can smell the flammable liquid on his breath. And you can see that he has his nails pressed against his palm. You take his hand in yours and he closes his eyes. You caress the little cuts with your fingers. There are no scars but the skin is still red and painted with fear. You understand and it makes you feel dirty and obscene.

You look thoughtful for a moment and then you decide you can’t go on like this. It will split your souls.

“How’s Canada?” His eyes fill with surprise and he laughs. It gives you pride.

“Never been?”

He takes a step inside your place and his eyes fall on the empty bottle of pills at the kitchen table.

He doesn’t say a word about it.

You love him for that.

“I’ve never been anywhere.” Your cheeks are flushed with a soft raspberry color.

Sebastian realizes then that he wants to show you the entire world. Every corner of it. He wants to hold your hand as you walk beneath the Corsican stars. And he wants to memorize the Northern lights with you by his side. And he wants to see you laugh as he falls off his surf board in New Zealand. And he wants every cliché thing there is to do.

His heart stretches at the thought of it.

“Canada is beautiful in its own way.” He looks out of your window.

You wonder if he’s trying to find any more constellations in the sky, but then he turns around and walks towards you.

“I’ve been there a lot of times.”

 _Of course you have,_ you think.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ears. It’s still damp and cold.

“Have you been to a lot of places?” He smiles and nods.

And then you can sense it; the sharp feeling of heartbreak crawling under your skin. You try to ignore it.

“I used to be grateful I travel all the time.”

You place your hand on his chest. The beating makes you calm.

“You’re not grateful anymore?”

He rubs his palm over his face.

“I am,” he inhales “But sometimes I just want to stay where I am.”

_Yeah, I know._

He leaves an hour later, still drunk.

Still in love.

/

On Sunday, he takes you out for dinner. You tell him you don’t like dates. He promises it’s not a date.

You know you’re both lying.

He orders some red wine and he drinks as he watches you eat. It all feels natural to him. Somewhere at the back of his head though, there’s still some rationality left, that makes him think, _This can’t be wrong, when it feels so natural._

He doesn’t drink any more.

/

You’re playing with the maraschino cherry on your dessert when his phone rings and your world comes crashing down.

You don’t intent to but you see the caller ID.

_Love._

He had called _you_ love one night.

He feels too guilty to look at you so he grabs the device and gets out of the place.

You want to throw the ice cream on the floor.

And then you want to hit the wall; with your head. But you can’t. So you just bite down at the cherry and wait for him to come back.

And when he does, things are different.

He doesn’t to try to make jokes and you don’t laugh. His eyes are everywhere but on you and your hand stays away from his.

You tell him you’re done with dessert so you can leave.

He has never felt more relieved.

/

Your pace is fast, but he catches up. You can’t outrun him.

His breath quickens as he comes closer. It’s almost innocent and childlike, the look he gives you.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers and it makes you laugh. You laugh and you shake your head and it’s not enough.

“Why?” He can taste the bitterness all over you. “This wasn’t date. So why are you sorry?”

You keep walking and his breath keeps echoing in your ears. You find the entrance of your building.

You’ve seen the place a hundred times but only now you notice how old it looks. It makes you disgusted. It makes you want to vomit.

It starts with him saying he doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

And then you rest your body at the soiled wall, trying to remind yourself you’ve had your heart broken before. And your eyes are not dry anymore. And you can taste salt in your lips. And he comes closer and he holds you.

You swear you see tears in his cheeks too, but he’s too fast to wipe them away.

“Have you ever done anything only to regret it a second later?”

You’re not certain which one of you asks but you can hear your bones breaking as you throw your head around and he arches his back.

His hands touch the dried tears on your face and it stings like sewing needles. And his lips touch yours. And for a brief moment you feel like you’re stealing from life.

And he can taste all of you; raw.

And it feels like fists that punch him.

And when you pull away you both have already regretted everything.

“Now you have something to be sorry for.”

You wonder if perhaps a broken dignity is better than a broken heart.


	7. [7]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello? this chapter is so late but you can blame uni and my dentist for this. i'm soooo sorry, i really hope you will not have to wait this long for an update again. i hope you like this one and if you have any ideas about what's going to happen next make sure to tell me in comments :) thaaaank you so much to everyone who takes time to comment, leave a kudo or just read this story, it means a lot :)

_When you both go to sleep that night,_

**What you say to yourselves:** It is just a kiss.

 **The truth** : Sebastian can’t forget your scent and your taste. And it’s everywhere. And it’s everything. He’s not sure if he can breathe anymore. He tries to put himself together but he loses; he lets a moan escape his quivering lips, as he comes hard, alone in bed, your lips a picture in his head.

You can’t forget his warmth. He’s long gone but his heat is still making your body sweat. And it’s becoming annoyingly addictive. You try to fall into a dreamless sleep but you can’t. You grab onto your sheets, trying to shallow down his name when you have two fingers inside you.

It’s a night painted with remorse and guilt.

/

“Please breath,” you whisper in front of the bathroom mirror. “Breath in. And out.”

It’s been two days and one night since the doomed night. You have not heard of him ever since. Your heart beats with the power of war tambours. You want to find him and tell him you’re sorry. You want to promise him, you don’t mean to cause any trouble. You want to let him know you most probably don’t belong in his life. He will pass trough you like cars pass red lights.

_Violently._

“I’ll find him tomorrow.” You lie down and rest. “I’ll tell him everything tomorrow.”

/

Argyris can see the disorder reflecting in Sebastian’s eyes the second they pass in front of your door.

The Romanian drops his eyes on the floor and quickens his pace. Argyris is smart enough to not comment on it; at least not when they have an all night shooting in a while. He doesn’t want to distress him.

He doesn’t have a choice though; because Sebastian stops as soon as they reach the third floor.

“I’ve made such a mess.” His voice can’t give away how nauseous he feels.

Argyris exhales loudly. This is precisely what he was afraid of. This is precisely what he had warn you both about.

“It’s not the right time” he starts quietly “We have to work.”

Sebastian sighs.

He feels as though there will never be a right time for the two of you.

/

You can’t sleep. The sky is dark behind your closed windows. It’s almost four in the morning and everything around you is quiet; until it’s not anymore.

You can hear people laughing as they enter the building and you can hear the lady from the first floor yelling at them.

Suddenly you’re thankful for the terrible insulation as the whole place grows alive at the sound of noise. You’ve grown tired of silence.

You slowly open your door. You want to hear more.

Agyris is trying to apologize when the old woman starts calling them uncivil. You want to laugh. But then you hear steps coming closer and in a breath he’s standing right in front of you.

“Did we wake you up?”

The others are still arguing in the lobby.

_No, I couldn’t sleep, too busy thinking of your lips._

“Yes. All the noise scared me.”

He comes closer. He tries to clear his head of images he creates at night. Images with you.

“I’m sorry.” He says and it sounds like his chest feels lighter afterwards “I’m sorry for the noise.”

You nod, a blank expression across your face.

“We went for a few drinks after the shooting and people got drunk and dragged themselves hear to continue the party. It’s not Argyris’ fault.”

You turn your head away from him. You don’t dare to look at him for a long time.

“I can bet that.” Your words feel heavy inside your mouth. “He has never caused any trouble before you came.” Your words feel bitter inside your mouth.

He laughs. He calls your name. It makes your throat dry.

“You can see that I’m not the one who’s drunk and arguing downstairs.” The space between you two starts to dwindle.

“You should go.” You whisper. “There is no reason for you to be here.”

He says nothing for a while. He just stays there looking at you with an unreadable expression. His breathing hits your face. It feels cold.

“You’re right.” He answers, building his guard back up, posture fixed and face blank.

And then with one last glance he leaves you alone.

/

You wake up not much later, the sun meeting the horizon. You clean the kitchen and you water your flowers. You decide to take a walk. You haven’t done that in a very long time.

Not a lot of people are awake at that time. The streets are almost empty. You find that comforting. You pass the familiar places and there’s a heady feeling in the air; the mouth watering smell of fresh bread in the small bakery, the sound of a dog barking and an old man carrying around a barrel organ.

Lately you seem to forget how much beauty there’s around. Lately you seem think true beauty is only a pair of light eyes and the sound of a foreign accent.

You feel selfish; your ardor for him has blinded you and everything seems too little.

You feel stupid.

/

And then you blink and it’s Sunday and you remember Argyris telling you they’re leaving on Monday to shoot scenes in some islands. You can’t decide if you want them to leave sooner or never at all.

The latter makes you forget to breath.

You take a shower. But water can't wash tears completely away. They stick to your body like leeches.

The white towel feels rugged against your skin and you think of throwing it in the trash can. You don’t.

Instead you get dressed and make a turkey sandwich for dinner.

A knock at your door stops you.

How you’ve missed that sound.

You close your eyes.

You feel as if you’re being thrown back in time, to the first time he came at your doorstep.

There’s another knock.

 _Maybe it’s not him_. You take a step. _Even if it’s him, it’s a dead end_. You place your fingers around the handle, without making any motion to unlock. _It's a loose end that needs to go away._ You stand there for some seconds. There’s no more knocking. You smile at yourself. You were always good at hiding behind closed doors. Maybe not good enough; now you can hear him talk.

“I’m glad you’re not here” his voice makes it sound like he’s aching “Or that you’re here and don’t want to open up.”

Your hand swifts around the knob.

“I’m glad, because if I was looking at you right now I would-”

He stops when he meets your gaze. You’re close now. And it’s hard not to wrap your arms around him, but you force yourself to just look straight ahead and do nothing.

“You would what?” You voice sounds like a mourning song.

You watch as he runs his fingers through his hair and lets a quite sigh.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.”

He laughs and it’s dry and sharp. And then he grabs you by the shoulder and you’re both inside your apartment and he closes the door with a shudder. His eyes are swollen and for a moment you’re scared. Only for a moment.

“Yes I am.” He still has his arm around your shoulder. “What do you want me to say? That I would do everything? That I would kiss even your eyelids?”

You’re shivering. You feel almost sick.

“I can’t say any of those things.” He swallows hard around the lump in his throat. You look at him staringly.

“You can.” You’re stepping closer to him. “You can say everything. There’s no one here. Just us.”

“That’s not enough.” He says, with a look that promises all the sorrow and the suffering in the cosmos.

Your face splits. “Then why are you here?”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“We’re leaving tomorrow.”

 _I know,_ you almost say. But he talks again, before you can say anything.

“I want you to come with us.” You feel like you're choking on the world’s most expensive rose. You start coughing. He caresses your forehead, tucking some hair behind your ears.

“No, Sebastian, this is bad.” His fingers can feel a tear dripping down your eyes and your cheeks and your lips. Slowly. He’s not certain if it’s yours or his.

“I know.” He blinks. “But we don’t have much time. And I want to be around you. We can try to be friends again.”

There's a feeling in your stomach that makes you want to throw up when he says the word friends. It makes your mouth taste sour. It's pathetic.

“I don’t know if I can do that.” You murmur.

And then his eyes pierce through yours. And you think of that evening that you saw his eyes for the very first time. And you think how this version of events had never crossed your mind back then. This was not supposed to happen. You were not supposed to grow close to him. And he was not supposed to show you the stars and dry out your salty tears. And you were not supposed to kiss him.

And now he was not supposed to go.

“Please, promise me you’ll try to be friends with me.” He breaths air into your lungs. “Promise me you’ll come.”

You smile softly. It reminds him of something pure, like honey and cherries.

“I can try.”

Sebastian can feel his heart almost stop; like a clock that’s reminding him you do not have much time left together. September will come and go and so will he.

And his heart knows.

So he presses his forehead against yours and mumbles a sincere _thank you_.

You stay in silence, trying to fathom why all this feels like you're getting ready for war. Maybe it's better you don't know.


	8. [8]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo, it's been so so so long since I last updated this fanfic, I'll be surprised if anyone still remembers it. I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue writing it but I suddenly got the urge to write about Sebastian and here it is :) If you're still here after all this time, I wanna say thank you and I love you. Your comments make me so much more inspired to write. I hope you like this chapter because it's very important to how this story will grow. I've also decided there will be 12 parts in total. So that gives us four more chapters. Lots, of love, Anna.

When you agreed to go with him on the trip, Sebastian fell into a world of bliss and anticipation. He had been worried you wouldn’t want to see him again after everything that occurred between you two. He had spent nights sleepless, just laying awake and trying to fathom things. 

But not tonight. Tonight he’s packing his bags and dreaming of the sea and you. 

The sea. And you. Those are the things he loves most right now. 

_Love_. It’s funny because sometimes Sebastian thinks he could have fallen in love with you, if only time allowed. But he has less than two months. He has calculated everything.

_( 60 days )_

_( 59 nights )_

He’ll probably never see you again afterwards. He knows you were never meant to be. 

He sighs. 

The screen of his phone lights up and he’s certain it’s his girlfriend, because it’s 3am in Greece. Who else could it be? And that gives him an ache because he loves his girlfriend. But not right now. 

He’s wrong though, it’s a message from you. 

_I’m sorry. I can’t come with you tomorrow. I’m sorry._

His heart falls. 

It’s funny because sometimes Sebastian thinks he could have fallen in love with you, if only you allowed. Sometimes he thinks it’s better this way. 

/ 

You read your message again and again. Your eyes scan each world like your whole life depends on them. You can’t go to the trip. It’d be like you set yourself up only to fall apart some time later. And you’d have no excuse. You don’t even know why you had said yes to him. 

Perhaps because that’s what Sebastian wanted to hear and you love Sebastian. It’s very painful and all kinds of fucked up, but you do. 

At first you try to close your eyes to it. You think, whatever it is between you, it’s not love. It must be hate. 

But the opposite of love, is not hate. It’s indifference. And Sebastian has never been indifferent to you. 

Your heart splits at the realization. 

/ 

Everyone is drinking and dancing. They finished shooting last night and Argyris decided to throw a small beach party. Once upon a time, Sebastian would have been thrilled about it. He always loved partying. But those were the old days. All he can think about now, is a girl with braided hair and nails painted dark blue. That’s how you looked the last time he saw you. 

It’s been a week since that time. It’s been a week and he’s getting desperate. And his curly haired co-star is moving her body too close for his liking. He’s trying to flee. 

The woman smiles at him. He knows she probably asks for more than he can give. She smiles at him and she looks beautiful, so beautiful. He almost thinks it’s unfair and selfish of him to ignore such a beautiful smile. 

But the woman’s hair is curly and not in a braid. And her nails are painted red instead of dark blue. 

/ 

You don’t see him for one more week. You want to send him a message. Call him. Do something. You do nothing but check his Instagram profile almost every hour. It’s sort of becomes a habit. 

At your room the walls whisper and scream about that night you fell asleep next to each other. You try not to listen. 

Some nights you can picture him smiling at you and his smile feels far too heavy. Some nights you try to imagine a version of him that could grow old with you. 

You can’t. 

/ 

It’s 8:10 am. The first time you meet again. You call the elevator on your floor and when the door opens he’s there. You didn’t even know he was back, before now. You almost get out and take the stairs instead. You hide yourself at the corner as far from him as possible. Sebastian notices for the first time how small you look. 

“When did you come back?” Your mouth opens before you can stop it. 

He turns to look at you. You can see he has a little tan. It looks great on him. _Dammit_. 

“Last night.” Your hands are shaking. You’ve missed his voice. _Dammit._

_Two more floors. You can make it._

You wait for him to turn his back at you again, but he doesn’t. 

“Not coming with me,” his breathing breaks and his throat dries out instantly and he feels on the verge of collapsing “It didn’t help.” 

It takes you a while to get what he’s saying. Why he’s saying it. The elevator stops. 

“Did it help you?” _No, of course not._

“Sebastian, please.” You try to say something more but his voice stops you. 

“Do you know any quiet places?” You nod. 

“Take me.” You shiver. 

“Please.” 

The door opens and he grabs your hand. 

You think you’ll never really understand Sebastian. He’s been so many people with you. A pretty face on screen, a stranger and then a friend. And then a lover? Maybe. 

Something intimate, anyway. 

Intimate, in the way pain is. 

/ 

You’re at a small park just behind your house. 

His hair has grown the last few days and he’s playing with a strand. You watch him and he watches back. He puts one hand in the pocket of his jeans and another at your cheek. 

You had almost forgotten how it feels. Soft and rugged simultaneously. Almost like a transfusion, it revives you. 

“We’ve screwed up, haven’t we?” His voice sounds like an old song. 

You think you can hear your bones straining under the weight of his words. 

“Yes, I guess we have.” You try to smile at him. Your lips don’t move upwards though. They can’t. You can feel your eyes get wet. 

Sebastian can’t bear looking at you like that. He puts his hand behind your neck and brings you closer. 

At that moment, by falling into his arms, you lost the battle. 

Your body is cold, worn down by all the sleepless nights. You’re not sure he knows exactly what you feel at this moment. Neither do you. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come on the trip.” 

“I understand.” He nods. 

“Sebastian,” His breath hitches when you call his name. “I don’t know if I wanna see you again.” 

_Lies._

He blinks. You don’t. His face looks like he’s about to growl. Then his features relax. 

A tear falls down your cheek and he’s quick to swipe it away. His eyes soften. 

“I know,” he says in a whisper “We just keep hurting each other.” 

You laugh bitterly. “When did I hurt you, Sebastian?” You push his hands away from your body. He doesn’t fight it. 

You let out a shaky breath. 

“We spent the night together and you left without even saying something.” Your eyes are wide and rabid. “You keep acting like we’re something special and you have a girlfriend back home. And when I kissed you,” you pause for a second, remembering everything. “You kissed me back.”

You’re talking a little too loud. An old man passing by, turns to look your way. You cheeks flash red. 

“I wanted you to kiss me.” Your hearts clenches. “I’m so sorry. I needed you to kiss me.” 

He takes your hands in his. He looks at you half like he wants to apologize, half like he wants to kiss you again. _Maybe, he does._

“Every time I see you, I want you to kiss me.” 

“Don’t say that.” 

“It’s the truth.” Surprisingly his voice is steady and his hands grab yours tighter than before. 

“It can’t be the truth.” You exhale roughly. “It will ruin everything.” 

He looks at you for a while and then he does the most human thing possible; he wraps his arms around you. You hide your face at the crook of his neck. Your breath hits his skin and it’s warm and tender. 

“Not us.” He whispers in your hair. “It will save us.” 

At that moment, Sebastian lost every battle. 

/ 

**Things you felt when Sebastian kissed you later that evening:**

Divinity and tragedy. The feeling of going over the speed limit. The despair in his mouth. The booming in his heart. Fear for the distant future. His arms creating a shelter from the rest of the world. Affection. And affection. And affection. 

**Thing Sebastian felt when he kissed you later that evening:**

Your heartache in his hands. The faded cherry lip balm in your lips. Your nails digging into his skin. A raw satisfaction. Madness and power. Your warmth making his heart beat fast. Freedom. And love, so much love. 

/ 

It was never his intention to cheat on his girlfriend. Sebastian is not that kind of man. _But then again, everyone is._

You try not to think about that while his mouth devours the skin above your collarbones. It makes your pores sweat and your core beat. Time spins by as you both lay on your bed. 

It feels like he’s a sweet lover. Dewy eyes and warm fingertips. He makes love to you at sunset, when dreams start to form and cotton sheets stick to his skin. Yearning gets the best of him, his movements become sharper, his bones turn to steel. 

You don’t mind. That’s what you need right now. Burning lips at the curve of your hips. You can almost taste it; the sillage of his after shave. Eucalyptus. That’s what he tastes like. 

/ 

He’s drawing archways in your skin. He touches the part between your breasts. Softly and gently at first. And then digging his teeth. He wonders if you want this as much as he does. It’s nearly tearing him apart. His ribs and his lungs are full of eagerness and you. You, you, you. 

To him, there’s nothing to do but kiss every inch of your body. He knows there’ll be a cacophony soon. You’re both equipped with love that has an expiration date. But he wants to beat time. He wants to feel all of this for as long possible. 

“Please,” You say between heavy breaths and he's getting worried he's going to tell you he loves you. “Please I need you Seb.”

You've never called him that before. He can't decide if he likes that or the fact that you need him, more. He complies.

You feel him inside you as he's stroking between your thighs. You close your eyes, his heated sounds soothing everything. Your lips are red, from you biting at them.

He looks at you, with his hungry face and he finds everything about you so delicate and so beautiful.

He can keep going forever. You're grateful.

/

Lying naked in your bed, you’re watching him struggle to keep his fevered blue eyes open. His hands still tangled in your hair.

The room smells of sweat and eucalyptus and everything in the universe feels softer.

“I think I love you.” He says, and as he falls asleep, he smiles.

“Don’t.” That’s the most selfless you’ll ever be in your life.

  



End file.
